


a white shirt that belongs to someone else.

by transclawed



Series: silent the sound as i come back around [1]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Trans Nathan Prescott, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 17:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transclawed/pseuds/transclawed
Summary: nathan wakes up in the dark room. mark wants to show him some photos that have turned out excellently. nathan wonders about how this place is both a personal refuge and a personal hell, sometimes at the same time. he's not all there, all the time.





	a white shirt that belongs to someone else.

**Author's Note:**

> i have never written anything like this, nor do i do this because i think its hot, or condone it. i want to explore the corners of nathan and how he ended up the way he did. some of this is me trying to express experiences in my life that i am working through, so please keep that in mind.  
also, just to be clear: this nathan doesnt have any kind of psychosis or similar issues, but based on his cut audio, originally, he knew of the storm. so, my nathan can actually see other timelines. they kind of happen all at once, though, and he has neither the tools to handle it nor decipher it. thats why he knows about the storm, but not, say, about max's powers. hope you all enjoy, i guess, although this fic is dark. for me, at least, lmao. will delve deeper into mark and nathan's relationship(its not romantic. as much as some would like it to be.) sometime in the future! oh, and nathan is a trans man! please be careful, tags are such for a reason. take care of yourselves, y'all.

nathan opens his eyes to bright, artificial lights, and his breath catches in his throat for a moment, and then two, and then three, and after a frozen pause he lets it out. slow, controlled. quiet. okay, blink. hurt? he takes stock, went from the top of his body to the end, making a list of where it hurt. okay. think about that later. where is he. bright lights, cold, hard floor. monochrome, though with the lights shining at him, theres not much he can see, as if he's on stage. on display, for the world to see. he moves his head to look down at himself and immediately, theres color, blooming at the corner of his eye on the floor, a new pain to add to the list. god, he feels like he's taken an axe to the back of the head. but this place is immediately, horribly familiar. maybe this is his own personal hell, maybe he's dead and buried like he knows he is somewhere, sometime. things tend to blur together, after a while.

the quiet makes him think too much about the sound of a camera shutter. of the night he woke up just like this, and found what used to be rachel amber, curled up with him. he doesnt know how he got there, why she's so cold. she was always warm, to him. never cared about who he was, about his family's money. and here she is, far, far too quiet. he'd tried to sit up but he couldnt, could only whimper and shiver beneath her sudden weight. where they were, it wasnt hard to figure out, at least. his face pressed against the cold packed dirt, the smell of rot inescapable as were the drugs in his system, would've made him gag if he could. the junkyard. he didnt know how he got here, why him and the body(oh, god. oh god, rachel. just a body. she didnt belong here, not like this.) lay there all splayed out like dolls. no one fell, or fell asleep in positions like this, no matter how drunk or fucked up you were, nathan knew from experience.

and then there's footsteps, echoing through the space around him and nathan jerks back into reality. a familiar sigh, although, at least, he thinks, not a disappointed one, and he knew exactly where he was. this was his personal hell, and heaven. he tries to speak, clear his throat, but all that came out was a quiet whine. the figure standing behind the lights tut-tutts, shaking his head as he steps into view.  
"nathan, you know how much i prefer quiet models. you were being so good. you can do this, i know you can. and then we can do something you like. ill even show you your own pictures, i know you've been dying for a peek."  
teacher, father, friend, something... else, nathan didnt even know what to call him anymore. mark jefferson knelt, taking a gloved hand to tilt the boy's face up a bit, brushing a few strands of hair down almost into his eyes. he pulls up his camera and leans back, tilts to the side, and takes a few photos to choose between later.  
"beautiful. i gave you a change of clothes, i hope you dont mind, but i think you'll like how these turn out. now, you should be feeling better soon. did you want to sit up?"  
nathan lets out another whine, a shorter, more affirmative one, he hopes, and jefferson smiled, pulling the ragdoll body up and against the wall behind him, a cheap mockery of how he would usually sit, spread legs taking up space like he had something to prove. nathan can already feel a bit of control over his body returning, able to move his lips and the tips of his fingers, so he sits, waiting. jefferson stands and went to go sit at the desk, walking with purpose, and soon, the noise of the printer printing out photos fills the room.

its a while before he can stand, wobbly and uncertain, and mark simply watches as he makes his way to the couch before his knees give out, crashing onto the couch and nearly falling off of it before his instincts kick in, his nails digging into the back of the couch before collapsing again, spent, against the arm of it. he can pick up the amused, quiet hum of jefferson's amusement from here, but for now he just ignores it. there's no rachel in this room, no kate, no victoria. he supposes he should be glad. he cant feel much of anything, not even terror. he's been photographed before, but mark had always asked. always. why he hadn't asked this time, hadn't let nathan prepare internally, he didnt know, and jefferson didnt seem too bothered to explain.  
suddenly remembering the blood he'd seen where his head had been on the ground, he reaches a hand up to feel. blood-encrusted hair, matted, met his fingertips and then hot, red pain shoots through his head, hand and body jerking away from the pain, as much as it could, and a short yelp escapes before he can swallow it down. quick footsteps followed, and then hands settled on him, one laying onto the crook of his neck, the other, fingers delicately encircling the wrist of his hand, still out in the air.  
"shh, i know it hurts, im sorry, nathan. dont you remember hitting your head?"  
the boy lets out a short breath, trying to remember but theres just.. nothing. did he do this too? and then there's jefferson's voice again, warm and comforting, leaning down at his ear.  
"hey, breathe, nathan. i will always take care of you, you know that. i was leaving for class when you called me, and when you stopped talking, i came to get you. i found you on the floor at your father's house. i couldnt leave you there, so i brought you here, where you'd be safe."  
nathan squints at his knees, at the scrapes on his legs and hands. from sidewalk, and there was nothing like that at his fathers house. he clears his throat, and its sore, like his face, and his eyes feel like he's been crying. only now does he properly see what he's dressed in, remembering what jefferson had said about giving him a change of clothes. a half-unbuttoned, somehow familiar white shirt reveals skin and soft, dark gray shorts dont do much to cover up the lines running up and down his thighs. theres a few rings simple silver on his fingers, as well as a thin silver chain that loops around his neck twice. he raises his free hand to feel at his throat, the skin there tender and he hears jefferson sigh, still at his ear.  
"yes, i imagine you're feeling a bit sore around the throat. dont worry, there's no real damage, just wear turtlenecks for a while and no one'll even notice. now, come, id love to go over the photos from this session."  
the hand around nathan's wrist let go, although the one massaging circles into the back of his neck doesnt leave. its comforting, regardless, and he leans into it with a shuddery breath before its suddenly gone, the warmth of jefferson's breath by his ear disappearing as he stands. nathan stands too, wobbly and uncertain but he needs comfort, ignoring everything else. almost of its own accord, his body followed after jefferson to the computer. sitting in his usual position, nathan drops onto one of the man's legs and leans back into the warmth. jefferson has never asked for a second chair to be brought down here, and nathan didnt want to upset him. once again theres a mouth at his ear, breaking his line of thought, and the computer monitor flickers to life, a picture of nathan already opened. he's lying on his side, mouth slightly parted and eyes just on the edge between consciousness and glazing over. the shirt looks almost wrenched open, chest and scars exposed in a way that makes his stomach twist but he doesnt look away. the shorts are pulled low on one hip, thin white lines visible above and below them. he's posed, of course. one hand resting flat against the floor in front of him and the other pulling at the chain around his neck. its obviously taking some strength, and the chain is more than taught, digging deep into the skin of his neck and he briefly wonders if that was simply to pretend there werent probably handprints across his throat. but he doesnt remember, and he knows better than to ask. because of the monochrome colors, it takes another moment, but then he notices the blood, a small pool below his head, dark against the white floor. he nods appreciatively, though its small, hands together in his lap. the sharp contrast of black and white, exaggerated shadows, the feeling of seeing something innocent but jagged, dripping blood and the hint of violence, it was a striking photo. nathan knew he'd never had the innocence that mark, that jefferson so enjoyed, but there was an innocence there nonetheless. he knows there wouldnt be any photos, any sessions, if there wasnt any to be found.  
"it-"  
he clears his throat again, trying to speak without the rasp and he manages, though it causes the dull ache to throb a bit.  
"this is way better than last time. its beautiful."  
and it is, making him think of all his photos of roadkill, dead birds. only once did he encounter an animal still alive, blood bubbling from its mouth as it snapped weakly at his shoe, guts splayed out across the road. he'd almost pulled his camera out, but he couldnt look away. it felt private, somehow, as if he didnt have the right to be there in its last moments. the photo he took after, of the corpse, he kept hidden away. even jefferson hadnt seen it, though not for lack of asking if there were any of his photos he hadnt seen. nathan knew he wouldnt understand, not that photo. mostly because he still hadnt understood how it made him feel. nathan hadn't thought about the incident in years, had been content with forgetting about it completely, but something in his own face staring back at him like a reflection of that animal. they had the same eyes.

"you did a wonderful job. and ive outdone myself, wouldn't you say?"  
jefferson clicks, and the next photo appears. this time, its a shot from above, skewed a bit to the side. half of the shirt is on, and the other, completely off. nathan's arms are spread like wings, and his legs are folded, spread open somewhat in the direction of the camera. the shorts are sideways and pulled down in the front, but not enough to show anything, a small thing that nathan is surprised to feel minute relief over. theres a dark streak on the ground where it looks like his head had been moved, leaving a smear of blood across the otherwise perfect white of the sheet. theres a slight smile to his mouth, and its bittersweet and welcoming. nathan admits to himself that for once, whatever innocence jefferson had seen in this shot, he simply cannot find it. but the hot, painful throbbing from the back of his head when jefferson presses his lips against it reminds him of all the pain in his body, of how he woke up here.  
"you uh, you didnt warn me. you promised."  
one hand suddenly rests gently on nathan's thigh, not gripping, but just... there. he can feel it, burning hot, skin against skin. he tries to ignore it, eyes still on the picture as he swallows. he can feel the man behind him shifting a bit, head moving lower, to the crook of nathans neck and moving his mouth against him.  
"im sorry. i just got carried away, seeing you at the school today. and you know my rule. always take the shot. here, ill show you."  
before nathan had time to even consider how to respond, jefferson had sat up a bit, curling around the boy in his lap to pull up a different file.  
it was nathan, somewhere on the school campus. his head tilted to the side, he was staring blankly into space, headphones on. his face was tear streaked and his eyes glazed, though from drugs or something else, its impossible to tell. but his face is open, showing whats inside, and it is a cacophony of pain and hope, confusion. hopelessness. guilt. its open in a way nathan never is, expecially in public. he doesnt remember this from today, or from any day recently, and a tiny shiver runs down his back. but the photo is entrancing, he cant deny. if he pretends that its someone he doesnt know, he knows how something like this would appeal to jefferson so strongly.  
"i.. please. you promised you would tell me when you wanted photos. you said you'd always warn me."  
a sigh warms his neck, and when nathan isnt absolutely sure its not a sigh of disappointment, he tenses, readying for.. he didn't know. bracing for punishment, maybe. preparing to take the disappointment and anger he'd earned, just like it always had been with his father, just like the fuckup he'd always-  
there was the ghost of a laugh at his ear and a hand on his thigh again, rubbing back and forth from the inside of his leg to the outside in a slow, steady rhythm. his breathing went a little funny for a moment, his stomach knotting between the photo on the computer and the mouth at his ear.  
"im sorry. ill make it up to you, i promise that."  
the hand slipped further up his thigh, radiating heat and making him want to squirm away, but every movement made something hurt and.... forgetting about it for a little while sounded kind of nice. jefferson's other hand went to the computer, starting to slowly click through more photos as his hand slipped past the shorts he'd changed nathan into, fingers going lower, teasing. breath hitching, nathan turned his head, trying to look anywhere but the screen, but the hand stopped moving immediately, and he tried to crane his head around to see jefferson's face. the hand on the mouse stopped him before he was even halfway, taking him by the jaw and holding him in place towards the screen.  
"oh, nathan. i want you to look. you can do that, cant you? come on. i know you can do better now."  
nathan didnt want to know what else would happen if he didnt listen, so he gave a jerky nod, and the near-painful grip his jaw immediately disappeared.

click. a photo of nathan, sitting, with his head tipped back so far the photo had been taken at an angle so that you could still see his eyes, vacant and glassy but for a tiny spark of life in them. the shirt he finally realizes, recognizes, as one of jefferson's, is almost completely buttoned up except for the one at the throat. the silver necklace has been looped through the hole and is being pulled away with threat of tearing the shirt with one of his hands, and the other rests, half sticking out of the band of the shorts, both legs folded but still taking up at least a third of the shot. theres blood down the side of the back of his neck, a bright black stain on a white canvas.  
the hand on nathan now begins moving again, and he bites his lip, willing his body not to respond. maybe if his meds do what they often do, jefferson will lose interest in this. normally he wouldnt mind this, even enjoy it, but the pain in his head and his body mixed with thr photos, the session, the conversation, it makes him feel a little sick.  
his legs involuntarily spread just a bit, giving the hand more room, and as jefferson slides a finger in, he hums in amusement.  
"you always do get excited quickly, dont you, nathan? you're already wet for me..."  
nathan's nose scrunches up, and he almost looks away before he remembers what he was told. jefferson wants him to look.

click.  
another photo of nathan, shirtless, chest and scars there for the taking in. for the gazing. the staring. exposed and out in the open with nowhere to hide. one hand is scrunched and pulling the shorts up as high as they can go, as if he wants to rip them right off, and he's looking directly into the camera. the shadows are extreme, and he's framed by a halo of coagulating blood behind him, dragged onto the white by his hair as if he was the world's shittiest paintbrush.  
jefferson shifts under him again, his hand starting to make little motions, up to the knuckle with one finger. nathan is biting his lip until it bleeds, but it feels... it feels good.

click.  
monochrome as always. nathan, shirt on again but this time rumpled, the sleeves rolled up to expose his scars and bruised arms. he's leaning back against the wall, as if he cant stay stand without it, and one hand is pressed flat and open against the white behind him. the other is thrown across his middle and lies there, easy. his teeth are bared, expression wild. a dying wild animal, faced with a voyeouristic intruder.  
a second finger slips in beside the first, and nathan is trapped between holding back a quiet groan and the way these pictures make him feel violated, make his stomach tighten into knots that are quickly undone by the hand below his belt. jefferson isnt new to this.

click.  
nathan, apparently naked aside from mark's shirt thrown across his midriff, lies on the ground. the lighting is bright, exaggerated, and one hand lies atop the shirt, the other thrown above his head, blood smearing. his eyes are wide and focused on something that isnt there, and his mouth is open, as if he were talking, one forner of his mouth twitched up in the beginnings of a smile. his face is flushed, and his hair messy.  
the hand jerks for a moment before its steady again, and a third finger joins the rest. nathan cant help a whine pass through his teeth, hips starting to follow the minstrations of the hand, but his face is almost stricken as he stares at the screen. the nausea rises in him, but theres nothing to do but ride this out. they linger on that photo for a bit longer than the rest, but it doesnt last.

click.  
this is not a photo from today's session. nathan, eyes wide and dazed, lies like a broken doll on dark, dark earth. he is clothed, but it looks haphazard, a half-hearted attempt at the photo being normal. it almost passes as just a strange photo, until one notices another pale hand, lying near nathan's head. long hair, a feather earring, are visible im the corner of the picture. theres no color, but nathan knows its a bright, vibrant blue.  
the hand doesnt stutter when he begins to panic, breathing and heartbeat rising, simply continues to slide in and out of him. the hand on the mouse changes direction, and wraps around his throat, not hard but a firm grip. a warning.  
"you're hyperventilating. im going to help you."  
nathan couldnt have nodded or shook his head no if he tried, so he simply lifts his face up, baring his throat. giving permission.  
the fingers crush around his throat with cruel and practiced precision. the hand in his shorts slows, and his body seems unable to know what to do, reacting to both the loss in pleasure and the loss in oxygen, and his hips stutter without rythm. a smooth, pleased laugh rings out above nathan's head, and suddenly both hands let go, manhandling him roughly so that he is now facing the man who's lap he was in. gasping unevenly, nathan looks up at him, before shoving himself against the man. this is easier than looking, than fighting, than fighting that his body responds despite all else. he's felt the half-hardness beneath his ass since they got to the picture with... from before, and now he rolls against it, face pressed into jefferson's chest, eyes screwed shut. the man laughs again, hands on his hips holding him down, and thrusts up harshly in return. before long, both are panting, and nathan still hasnt let go from where he'd thrown his arms around jefferson, face hidden. jefferson is slightly more composed, and with one hand he pulls nathan's face up, towards his own, looking over the tears silently streaking down his face. he leans the boy's body back so that its almost horizontal, shoulder blades pressed against the sharp edge of the desk. his hand returns to the shorts again but this time he simply tears them off, tossing them a short distance away as he takss in the sight before him.  
nathan is trembling. his unwillingness has simply turned to desperation, the hope that they can both come and be done with this, be satisfied. be left to gather himself back together again, because he hates falling apart, even for sex. this wasnt really sex, but close enough, he figured.  
"you just going to look, old man, or what?"  
jefferson wasnt expecting him to speak, and an incredulous smile crawls across his face, a hand resting around nathan's neck for a second time. he taps his thumb against his throat, a threat, and an offer.  
"y-you said you'd make it up to me. promised. so fucken' move. fucking do something."  
nathan cuts off whatever jefferson opened his mouth to say, trying to keep the fear from bubbling through. talking back had never resulted in something good, so he pauses, breathing hard, before adding:  
"ill forgive you if you make it worth it. sir."  
that earns him a genuine grin, albeit a dangerous one, but he decides not to dwell on it. jefferson leans down so that he's hovering just above nathan, and smirks.  
"of course, nathan. dont hold back those pretty little noises though. i want to hear them."  
nathan nods quickly, pushing himself at the bulge he can feel through the fabric of jefferson's pants, and feels the tiniest satisfaction of hearing the older man's breath pause for just a moment. then he's the one gasping, as the hand wrapped around his throat starts to squeeze and the other returns to his cunt, teasing before pushing in three fingers again. he swears at the burn of the stretch, at the lack of any lubrication other than his own, but rolls his hips against it anyways. please. he starts to choke properly as the hand at his throat tightens, and just when he really thinks this might be how he dies, jefferson releases him. without a moment wasted, hes pulled towards the man, who licks into his mouth with a grin. ah. nathan always had a weak spot for kissing, even rough, forceful kissing like this. he moans back in response, doing his best to reciprocate, and his arms came up to loop around jefferson keeping them pressed together. that got the man's second hand free, and it joined in between the two of them. nathan was honestly, surprised that jefferson was still in his pants, but he certainly wasnt complaining, that was just fine by him. then jefferson began thumbing at his clit, and he was reduced to gasping for more against jefferson's lips, even as tears rolled down his cheeks once again.


End file.
